beyond le mansreaching out into sarthe

The following essay – Beyond Le Mans – was originally published in Living France magazine, as part of a larger feature about the department of Sarthe and Le Mans.

It was time to move on, and just outside Le Mans, a short drive away, I
find the Cistercian abbey of Épau. Here lie the remains of Queen Berengaria,
wife of Plantagenet Richard I, the Lionheart. Following his death, she withdrew
to Le Mans, where she was warmly welcomed, and in 1229 founded the abbey. It is
a remarkably tranquil spot, in fact I could have stayed there all day. The
building, having succumbed to agricultural use for a time, was restored towards
the end of the last century and is today well-maintained, but devoid of
content; not that this detail detracts from the setting. Only the original
cloister and western façade are missing, but this remains one of the best
abbeys in France, and a supremely peaceful location.

While in that neck of
the woods, I venture a little further to the Arche de la Nature. Set in pine
woodlands, this is an excellent place for walks, and, at its heart, a ‘prairie’
farm with some interesting rare breeds of animal, including the magnificent
Percheron horses which draw a caliche
around the woodland tracks on a plodding journey that will appeal to children
from 8 years old to 80. Back at the farm, an estaminet, or outdoor café, serves excellent lunchtime food
accompanied by an artisanal beer
brewed in the English manner – whatever that is. But it is very refreshing.

Moving east I reach La Ferté Bernard. This is a 'naughty' place, where
the culinary temptations of Le Dauphin Restaurant contemptuously sweep aside my
stalwart determination to restrain my diet and so return my well-developed
lower chest to something resembling the six pack of my youth. That I fail
miserably is not entirely my fault! Rillette
de Thon, filet de Sébaste aux pois chice et citron confit, cône de l’anis vert
et crème pêche de vigue would weaken anyone’s resolve.

Thankfully, this hugely
agreeable town has a number of redeeming features, not least the weight of
medieval antiquity crammed into a small area. The whole region here is built on
marshland (marais), which makes it
all the more remarkable. The old houses huddle around the church, built on
piles amid the lush fields of the Huisne valley. Here, too, there are many
half-timbered houses, and a significant investment in restoration, from the
magnificent Porte Saint Julien to the corn exchange (Halle aux Grains). What my
guide failed to mention was that La Ferté was owned in 1642 by Cardinal de
Richelieu, arguably the world's first prime minister and a great if often harsh
servant of the French cause. La Ferté was held by Richelieu's descendants until
the Revolution.

In search of chateaux, I head for Montmirail, formerly a defensive
stronghold, the original Gallo-Roman fortress being replaced by a feudal
outpost and later a medieval castle. Once the capital of the ‘Perche Gouêt’
region, Montmirail, a much-desired location, was besieged by Richard I during
the Hundred Years’ War.

Not far away, I located
my room for the night, in the Chateau de la Barre, held in the same family, de Vanssay,
since 1421, and a real treat. It’s not every day I get to have dinner with a
count and countess. Moving on was particularly difficult, the grounds are
peaceful and relaxing, but only the prospect of finding my target vineyard at
Poncé-sur-le-Loir closed for lunch spurred me on. The wine here tends to be
Jasnières, produced from chenin grapes, although they do also produce some
Coteaux du Loir.

Here I'm driving along
the edge of the département, dipping
into a rural way of life that binds communities like St Calais, Bessé-sur-Braye
(fine chateau of Courtonvaux nearby), and la Charte-sur-le-Loir. There seems to
be an idyllic contentment about these small towns, a refreshing and relaxing
ambiance I find repeated in the Forest of Bercé where lunch at the Auberge de
l’Hermitière is taken to accompaniment of blackcap, green woodpecker,
chiffchaff and the sound of fish leaping from the nearby lake. With more than
280km of waymarked trails, this oak and conifer forest, perhaps once the
hunting ground of Plantagenet kings, is perfectly designed by walkers, cyclists
and horse riders. I sit for hours mesmerised by the tranquillity of it all. I
would be there still if someone hadn’t brought the bill and disturbed my
reverie.

Heading north I find myself attracted to Fresnay-sur-Sarthe, what the
French describe as a Petite Cité de
Caractère, one of eleven towns along the Sarthe formed together for the
purpose of furthering their cultural development. And so it is, a small city,
of character. Founded originally around its chateau, now long gone, this
agreeable town still retains much of its original layout, a mix of cobbled
streets, a new market hall, elegant church, and a fine view over the Sarthe
river. Here I indulge my passion for people-watching, and perch beneath the
shade of an umbrella at Les Alpes Mancelles, viewing the world through
pastis-coloured glasses.

Sarthe is proud of its Plantagenet
history, and, as I soon realised, it’s as much a part of the French patrimoine as it is of our English
heritage. Perhaps that’s why so many English people find Sarthe such an
agreeable place to live. It’s just a pity that its main claim to fame has
nothing to do with the intrinsic beauty of the region.